


A Kiss to Remember

by Meraad



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 08:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30069453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meraad/pseuds/Meraad
Summary: Blackwall and Inquisitor Adaar share a moment, and then finally, their first kiss.Another Tumblr prompt this one from commanderadorkable
Relationships: Blackwall/Female Inquisitor, Female Adaar/Blackwall (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 6





	A Kiss to Remember

_What will we do when the world it is ending,  
And time it is halted for friend and for foe?  
Try to hold on to the time as it passes.  
I’ll tend to the flame; you can worship the ashes.   
-Ashes by The Longest Johns  
_

Blackwall climbed the stairs, mug of ale in hand, the music from the musicians below filling the tavern. They were good, though their last few songs had been rather morose, and the current one was no exception. Eyes scanning the tables, the small clusters of people sitting, enjoying a meal or a drink together. 

The Inquisitor though, sat alone. One hand curled around her mug, her cheek resting against the other. Stay away from her, he silently told himself. He had no business getting involved with her. Yasmin Adaar had made it clear she was interested, had flirted from the start, and Blackwall couldn’t deny his interest. She was strong, brave, and so damn beautiful it made his heart ache.

Much as he tried to push her away, to stay away himself, he found he couldn’t. They fought well side by side. A worthy companion in a skirmish. 

Loyal and compassionate, things he wished he could see in himself. He admired her, her dedication to the Inquisition, to its people, despite how she’d been treated in the beginning and her views on the Chantry. 

Before he even realized what he was doing, he’d crossed to her table, stood at her elbow. “Mind if I join you, my lady?” 

Yasmin looked up, blinked, and then a smile curved her lips and she inclined her head. “Of course, Warden,” she waved her hand to the seat across from her. Blackwall sat and looked at her.

“These new musicians are…” he trailed off, depressing was the only word that came to mind.

“I think they are lovely,” Yasmin said and he noticed the way she flexed her left hand, the marked hand. Curling it and stretching her fingers out, absently as if she hadn’t noticed.

“Is it paining you?” he asked and she seemed to jerk in surprise at the question. 

“It’s fine.” 

She curled her hand into a fist but Blackwall reached out, his own calloused fingers sliding along the back of her hand, turning it palm up. “How bad is it?” he asked, voice low as he traced his fingertips over her knuckles.

Her fist loosened and she let him uncurl her fingers. “You know that sensation when a limb has fallen asleep, and then the blood all rushes back in. When it feels cold and as if it’s been stabbed with millions of pins?” Blackwall glanced up to her face, but she was staring at their hands. “It’s like that, a hundred-fold.” 

Blackwall ran his fingertips along her wrist, down her thumb. The soft green glow from the anchor dull in the light of the tavern. “All the time?” he asked, wondering if touching her hand like this was causing her pain.

“It’s worse when I close a rift,” she told him. “The pain ebbs, and I got used to it.” 

Surely, there had to be something that could be done, he thought, though he had no idea what. They sat for long moments, Blackwall touching her hand, tracing her fingers, while silently berating himself. 

Another song started, one more morose than the last. Full of such longing that an ache formed in his chest. “Do you think-” Yasmin broke off.

“Think what, my lady?” he looked at her, her dark eyes glistening, there was a faint quiver to her lower lip. “My lady?” he whispered. “Yasmin.” 

She blinked, met his gaze and the smile was forced. “It doesn’t matter,” she told him then withdrew her hand and stood up. “Good night, Warden Blackwall.” 

Blackwall watched her go, that aching in his chest growing, expanding until he felt consumed by it. Then he downed the last of his ale, stood up, and followed her. He had no business getting involved with her. He wasn’t worthy. He wasn’t good. But oh how she made him wish he was. 

He finally caught up with her in the grand hall. She was a few steps away from the door to her quarters. “My lady,” he called out, his voice echoing in the massive space. He barely noticed the handful of people that still milled around.

Yasmin turned her hand on the doorknob. “Blackwall?” her dark brows drew together and he closed the distance. 

“I’m not a good man,” he told her and she shook her head. “You and I… there is no future for us.”

She let out a quiet scoff and shook her head again. “Do you really think I’m going to survive this? Varric doesn’t. I’m the tragic hero. If it weren’t for the rifts still out there, you know I’d do more good as the dead martyr than I will ever do while still breathing.”

The thought was abhorrent. “You will live,” he said almost viciously. He couldn’t bear the thought of anything else. Then he took that final step, closing the distance, and reached up to cup the back of her head. “You should stop me,” he breathed.

“No,” she rasped, her eyes searching his face. “I want you. I want to be with you.” 

Pushing up onto his toes, Yasmin still had to duck her head, curve her shoulders forward. But then their mouths met. Lips touched in a soft kiss and it was electric. Blackwall was certain he’d been struck by lightning. Her lips were soft and full against his and he knew that he would remember that moment, cherish it until his dying breath. 

Then, in whatever came after, because he knew he wouldn’t have a place at the Maker’s side, whatever paradise there was beyond would shut him out for all his crimes. But so long as he had this memory, could replay this moment in time, he didn’t care if he burned in the deepest pits of the abyss in eternal damnation. 

Drawing back, Yasmin met his gaze, her eyes full of warmth and Blackwall knew he was a goner. He was hers, irrevocably. Her lips curved up into a smile, then her eyes darted beyond him, and he remembered there had been a few people in the hall. He didn’t look. Didn’t care. Her opinion was the only one that mattered to him.

Yasmin reached behind her, shoved open the door with one hand, then the other curled in the collar of his tunic and she pulled, yanking him forward and through the doorway that lead to her quarters.


End file.
